Like A Sunday Night Drama
by craple
Summary: "Angels don't exist." Arya snaps, pointing Needle at him. "Neither do alchemists, I suppose." Balthazar replies and looks at the Lorathi over her shoulder. Jaqen blinks, and then laughs. Balthazar's awesomeness plus Jaqen/Arya.


Balthazar is having quite a pleasant day in heaven. His mood has improved gradually since last night's Making-Rapahel-Looks-Like-A-Fool mission with Cas, and his little brother didn't even scold him for having foreplay with three whores at once afterward. It was one of the most amazing nights he has ever had, truly.

But the night is over, and morning has arrived, and Balthazar is completely and utterly _bored_ at the moment.

His brothers and sisters know full-well about Balthazar's bad habits when he's bored. It usually involves a little bit of their angelic power, earth, and humans. Most of the times, he goes to the past and alters it simply for amusement. The Moria sisters have never been pleased at the result, and they'd force him to change it back later.

Yesterday, he received quite nice scars and wounds from Atropos, so he decides to do something different today.

Grinning, Balthazar rubs his palms together in excitement. The human world spreads across him invitingly, like Gabriel's new porn film or Cas' demon bitch, and he thinks 'why not?'

Balthazar spreads his wings open—light blue and silver and _shining_—and flies to earth.

-x-x-x-

She doesn't remember how did he get there, or how did they end up wrestling on the ground by the lake with him on top of her. Things just _happened_ on their own accord.

Arya shifts her hips upward and growls at him, baring her sharp teeth challengingly. Jaqen smiles lovingly at her in response. His half white and red hair cascades down his shoulder, framing his pretty, _pretty_ face and tickling her cheeks.

Her tongue darts out to get a taste of a strand of his hair, but he bends down and catches it gently between his teeth. Soon, they start kissing each other hungrily almost roughly, and their clothes are easily discarded without second thought. Just when he is about to take off her breeches—

"Well, well. What do we have here?" a deep male voice purrs softly behind them. Jaqen immediately jumps away in surprise, and Arya rolls beneath him to grab her sword. They're already on their fighting stances in less than a second, Balthazar observes, and he kind of wants to laugh at the irony of it all.

Humans aren't supposed to be soldiers; he and his _siblings_ took that part long time ago. They're supposed to just lie down on their long couch or bed, surrounded by whores and alcohols, and they'll decide whether they're worthy of heaven or another trash to be thrown to hell. Mostly it's hell though, but who knows?

"Who are _you_?" the woman in dark brown hair hisses at him angrily and bares her teeth, like a cat. Her breasts are covered with her dirty coat in her arms, and her breeches are halfway from getting undone. He regrets speaking before they could actually get into the more _interesting_ part.

"Ah please, do not let me bother your intimate activity in the middle of nowhere. Frankly speaking, I am here to _watch_." Balthazar says as he hops and sits down on a big rock nearby. The looks on their faces clearly state how confused they are at his statement. He just shrugs; resting his elbows on his thighs and puts his chin on his palm like an excited five-year old boy, waiting eagerly for his Christmas present.

They exchange glances—hers is that of mixed confusion and anger, possibly from being interrupted, and his is calm and slightly unreadable—not sure of what to do. Surely, there must have been a few times they were caught doing this, right? From what he had witnessed a few minutes ago, they are familiar with each other's presence and body, like they have done it multiple times before.

"Oh come on. Can't an angel of the Lord have its fun once in a while? It's freaking boring up there, despite all the blood and swords and those automatic shotguns," Balthazar rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in the air. "I don't know with Cassie, but my wings are tired, truly." He finishes, and they stare at him like he's a freak.

"Angels don't exist." She snaps, pointing her sword at him dangerously.

"Neither do alchemists, I suppose." Balthazar replies and looks at the Lorathi over her shoulder. He sees that he's holding two silver daggers, watching him cautiously as he moves. Arya shifts and the daggers are thrown to his chest in a split second.

When he's not falling dead to the ground, Jaqen blinks, and then laughs.

He doesn't feel pain, but the warm blood running down his skin and clothes. His mind wonders to their heads, listening to their thoughts, and is actually a bit surprise to find the cliché-ness of it all.

"Wait, this is a secret affair? You're _married_?"

Arya's body tenses and Jaqen's hands clench to fists. Busted, he supposes, but it's more like they're shocked that he hasn't died yet.

"Uhm, that's… hot. Really hot, I guess." He murmurs softly while pulling the daggers out like it's nothing. "But I was looking for assassins' battle porn, like in that Assassin Creed game, you know. Not a married-woman's affair. Seems like I'm going to that brothel after all."

And with that, the man disappeared from their sight.

"… What the hell?"

-x-x-x-

References to The French Mistake, Assassins Creed: Brotherhood novel, and Rihanna's "Unfaithful". Leave a review even if you don't understand, please? –shot–


End file.
